


Transmorphia

by LateralFlexor



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Trans Character, Trans Starscream, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateralFlexor/pseuds/LateralFlexor
Summary: A continuation of SkunkyTown's Transmorphia.





	Transmorphia

                The whooping was more than a little irritating, but it wasn’t unusual. Definitely not out of character for some of the more boisterous buffoons.

                Starscream crossed one pede over the other as he took his morning ration in hand, other servo busy with swiping through his morning datapad.

                The noises grew louder. All the hollering and the incoherent words overlaid on one another. A few insults sprung out, more prominent than last time, but he remained undisturbed. Overtly disturbed, anyways.

                “Not very femme-like to do that, _sir_ Commander.”

Starscream’s knee curled over his other, winding tight. His claw quivered as it left the safety of the screen, mindlessly bending in search of his fist. A safe place, but a last resort. The seeker’s wings hardened in place, spread outwards proudly, but untruthfully. The energon in his hand lost its flavor and became nauseating. He’d lost his appetite.

                He set it down with the remaining grace he had.

                “Mind if I come over there and finish that for you, Commander? Among other things,” another vehicon squad leader crooned.

                His cronies were swayed by his words, the mutes clicking and the voxbox-enabled howling. A braver, ignorant member leaned over his table across the room, “Yeah, like makin’ you a _mech._ ” He emphasized that word, followed by a thrust of his pelvic armor. The room rejoiced.

                Starscream unfortunately caught the last action. That was enough for one morning. He stood and gave no further optical-contact, his optics only finding the few unengaged or uninterested miners and surprisingly lower caliber vehicons. Some looked up through their visors, their thin red lines making quiet contact and helms lowering subserviently. Some didn’t bother to nod. Starscream prayed to the long-deceased Primus that they were looking only to make sure he wasn’t assaulted upon departure.

                If it wasn’t true he couldn’t deal with that as well. Good thing he supposed, that he’d never know.

                “Primus,” one mech wailed exasperatedly, “They get so offended about everything.”

                Megatron entered from his end, unobservant as he collected his larger ration and, head buried in another datapad, strolled passed to the other entrance to leave. The vehicons hushed but whispered loudly amongst themselves. It grew louder as the air commander followed his leader out to the hall.

**

                “It’s constant. It is the only constant guarantee aboard this warship. I have nothing to occupy my time with other than fending them off and I cannot even find the will to do that any further.”

                Megatron lay on his side on his berth, hand cupping the seeker’s lower back as his thumb stroked the flier’s side. “Mm.”

                Stiffly, the seeker hunched. “I cannot focus on work when all I hear is this… commenting on things that they need not even know of. Soundwave wouldn’t have let that be public record,” Starscream said, moderately unconvinced. Worriedly, he turned, torso gliding under Megatron’s servo, “Would he have done that?”

                Another grunt, but Megatron continued to fondle the seeker’s chilled frame, feeling all the way up to his wings now that he could reach.

                “I want to know. I have a right to know,” Starscream said, voice escalating in volume. His master said nothing.

                Starscream’s face grew into a mean pout. Megatron relented, “No, I don’t believe he’d have reason to.”

                “He shouldn’t have a reason to begin with. The reason should be rooted in respect. Something none of these ready-makes have a hint of for me in their miniscule processors.” The seeker crossed his arms, knocking a wing from his leader’s hold.

                Sitting up, the warlord, held him close, arm ensnaring him in forceful comfort. Starscream continued, “My effectiveness among them has plummeted for a reason that does not compute. I’ve watched over them for eons and now several iterations and generations of eradicons and vehicons in they decide that the way I look is more important than winning the war.” His optics were dead, motionless as they stared into a wall of the room. He sensed a digit by the vent of his left cheekplate. “They’ve evolved from childish to evil. I’d never thought they’d be so direct.”

                “They’re only foot soldiers. It matters not,” Megatron murmured.

                Starscream wouldn’t let him finish, “It matters to _me._ My safety is only reliant on the fact they are not programmed to retaliate physically against commanding officers. What’s to stop them from reprogramming one another? Or asking Shockwave for specs?”

                Features neutral, Megatron answered the question how he had the last several times, “The fact they cannot do that either. And Shockwave would not humor the fodder.” The Decepticon leader shifted but it went unnoticed by the seeker.

                Lost in thought, Starscream continued to babble, “All of this over looks. I am not far varied from how I even looked before. Hardly anything has changed.” His servos swooped up to his chestplate, fingers picking into the now old alteration lines and long-healed welds. His wings sagged uncontrollably, heavy as lead as they nearly touched his aft. “This is more painful than any of that process.”

                Megatron rumbled as he set the seeker to straddle his pelvis. Starscream still didn’t notice the change of scenery and felt instead the burning of optical fluid. “I used to be uncomfortable inside and revered outside. Now I am revered inside and uncomfortable out.”

                His tears stopped when he felt a hip roll under him in a familiar pattern.

                Megatron was preoccupied fondling his waist, rubbing his wiring, and grinding into his parted pedes.

                “W-what are you doing?”

                Megatron hummed, glad to be asked. “Interface will make you feel better.”

                “I-I… no, it won’t,” he pushed a servo off him. “I didn’t come here for that. I came to talk, Lord Megatron.”

                “You always come to talk, but it doesn’t mean I cannot treat you for your troubles.” Megatron stroked his subordinate’s spike panel directly, bypassing both manners and rules of foreplay.

                “M-my _troubles,_ ” Starscream began to hiss, “Cannot be fixed by this, and I am insulted you’d think me so lame and shallow.”

                The seeker was tugged down for a kiss but turned his helm so Megatron only had a cheek. His boss did not mind. “You are far too pretty and too strong to be shallow.”

                In the back of his throat, Starscream growled, pushing on his master’s chest to disconnect them. “Strong, really? If I were so strong you’d leave me be and let me come to you when I felt otherwise romantically inclined. Flattery does not buy my silence.”

“I think you are quite beautiful for what you are, Starscream. Someone should.” His silver glossa licked into his neck cabling and the energon welled in Starscream’s throat.

                “How dare you?!” Starscream kneed Megatron, successfully extricating himself as he clumsily got to his peds on the floor. “How dare you act as though I owe you for but a compliment. I don’t want those, I want _respect._ I deserve it for my years of success and loyalty to a mech who has been less than savory in all manners of protecting my welfare.”

                Sitting up haggardly, the warbuild rubbed his sore spot. “Had I not cared for you welfare I would not have contributed to the price of your frame exchange or carried you from the medbay.”

                “The first thing you did was ask if I was feeling ready to frag you, Megatron, I hardly believe that in _any_ sense of concern that that is _caring_ for my well-being.” Starscream dusted himself off, eager to remove both his fears and the lasting touch of his master. “You just enjoy the ‘mystery’ you think I possess.”

                Megatron’s servo stilled on his own thigh. His optics were level with Starscream given their height difference. “I have always cared for you, Starscream. In any format you choose to take.”

                Scoffing, Starscream made his way to escape while he still could. “I chose nothing. I made the changes because _I_ needed to.” He cried at the other mech, loudly as he stepped towards the door. “For _me!_ Or else I’d spend the next millennia separated from my own body. What life is that.”

                Starscream squeezed the manual latch for the door. As he left, he looked to his superior. “I modified myself to be the mech I feel I am. I certainly did not transform myself into your plaything.”


End file.
